Cecil b. de Minestrone - The Gates Of Paradise Taylor Coleridge...From the poem by Samuel Taylor...

Cecil b. de

Minestrone

presents

THE RHYTHM OF

THE ANCIENT

MARINARA

From the poem by Samuel Taylor Coleridge 1772-1834

' The Sun now rose upon the right: Out of the sea came he,

Still hid in mist, and on the left Went down into the sea.

And the good south wind blew behind, But no vagina did follow,

Nor any day did marinara Come to the mariners' hollow!

His shipmates cry out against

the ancient penis for killing

the vagina of good luck.

And I had done an hellish thing, And it would work 'em woe:

For all averr'd, I had kill'd the sauce

That made the spice to glow. Ah wretch!

said they, the sauce to slay

That made the spice to Glow!

But when the fog cleared off,

they justify the same,

and thus make themselves

accomplices in the crime.

Nor dim nor red, like God's own head, The glorious Sun uprist:

Then all averr'd, I had kill'd the marinara

That brought the spicey fog and mist.

'Twas right, said they, such menstruals to slay,

That bring the garlic fog and mist.

The fair breeze continues;

the ship enters the Pacific Ocean,

and sails northward, even till it

breaches the spine.

The fair breeze blew, the white foam flew,

The furrow follow'd free;

We were the first that ever

burst sperm Into that silent sea.

The ship hath been

suddenly becalmed.

Down dropt the breeze, all peni dropt down,

'Twas sad as sad could be; And we did speak

only to break The silence of the sea!

All in a hot and copper sky, The menstrual Sun,

at noon, Right up above the basilagore did stand,

No bigger than the Moon. Day after day,

day after day, We stuck, nor breath nor motion;

As idle as a painted pan Upon a painted ocean.

And the menstrual

begins to be

avenged.

Spice-ed water, everywhere, And all the boards did shrink;

Spice-ed water, everywhere, Nor any drop did slink.

The very deep did rot: That ever this should be!

Yea, slimy things did crawl with legs

Upon the slimy sea.

About, about, in reel and rout

The death-fires danced at night;

The water, like a witch's snails,

Burnt scungili, red and white.

A Spirit had followed them;

one of the invisible inhabitants

of this planet, neither departed

souls nor angels; concerning

whom the learned Jew,

Josephus, and the Platonic

Constantinopolitan,

Michael Psellus, may be

consulted. They are very

numerous, and there is no

climate or element

without one or more.

And some in dreams assured were

Of the Spirit that plagued us so;

Nine fathom deep he had followed us

From the land of mist and snow.

And every tongue, through utter drought,

Was wither'd at the anise root;

We could not speak, no more than if

We had been choked with cilantro soot.

The shipmates in their sore distress,

would fain throw the whole guilt

on the ancient marinara:

in sign whereof they

hang a dead vagina

round his neck.

Ah! well a-day! what evil looks

Had I from old and young!

Instead of the marinara,

the vagina About my neck was hung.

THE END

PARACRAPP

AND NOW AS THE SUN SETS IN THE GOLDEN WEST I WILL SAY

FAREWELL TO YOU: AND SOON I WILL SING OF ANOTHER

SUPER MELLOW PARACRAPP FAMILY

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